


Falling

by OceanTheSoulRebel



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 15:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14083563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanTheSoulRebel/pseuds/OceanTheSoulRebel
Summary: Varric makes good on a bet and reveals a secret to the Seeker of Truth.





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Written for DA Drunk Writing Circle. Prompt: Varric, "I'm afraid of falling."

The admission came in the middle of the night, after a particularly hard-won bet. She had declared her terms, and, like an idiot, he had been easy to rise to the bait.

To be fair, he hadn't expected to lose.

“All right, Varric, I want to collect on that bet. One secret from you before I go to bed.” 

Cassandra sat perched on a log, her high cheekbones held in stark relief by the firelight. Varric watched her unbuckle the straps that cinched her into her breastplate, though she did not remove it entirely in the starlit night. Her fingers loosened the buckles of her pauldrons; these she did take off, placing them carefully at her side. 

“Varric?”

Her voice was soft, and he was staring at her fingers that had long since stilled. He jerked his gaze away and turned to face the fire. “I’ve never particularly cared for horses,” he said flippantly, a lopsided smile cresting over his face. 

Cassandra huffed a slight noise. “Everyone knows that, it’s not much a secret. You are much too short for that to be comfortable, at least.” 

He pretended to consider, pursing his lips comedically. “I think nugs are creepy?”

She chuckled slightly. “They look like hairless rabbits with claws and are just as unnerving. Anyone would find them so.”

“Yeah, I don’t get how Leliana loves them so much. Weird little critters.” He poked at the fire with a branch, embers floating up on the rising hot air at his disturbance. 

He could feel her gaze on him, her eyes the color of a favorite barrel-aged whisky. He could get drunk on her gaze alone, if she let him, if he let himself. His skin prickled under her observation. Varric didn’t need to look at her to know the expression that would greet him, the slight dent of her brow, the thinning of her lip that happened because she bit her lip nervously.

When did he notice those things?

“Varric, if you do not feel comfortable, we can call off the bet.” Her words were quiet, colored with a measure of… what, guilt? Trepidation? Something he couldn’t put his finger on, so alien to the determined, self-assured facade she always wore, strong and confident in her convictions. 

“Nah, a bet’s a bet, I’ve gotta pay up.” Varric poked at the fire again, watching a sap-laded log snap in its heat. “I’m afraid of falling,” he said. “Of heights. Of reaches that no man should ever climb. Afraid of dropping with no end in sight, with no promise of relief or softness below, just the knowledge that you’ll forever be changed for the experience.” He lapsed into silence. 

Cassandra shuffled in her seat, a ponderous look on her face visible from the corner of his eye. How was her ass not asleep under all that leather and mail? The question led to an interesting train of thought and he shook his head. 

In his peripheral vision he caught her solemn nod. “That is... a very realistic fear,” she murmured in agreement. “Thank you for sharing that with me.” 

He watched her stand with a yawn, stretching long arms above her head into the starlit canopy of the sky. “Yeah, you should get to bed,” he said. “I’ve got the next shift anyway, keep us all safe from bandits and bears. We'll probably be up early digging for more elfroot or whatever else needs gathered.” 

Cassandra smiled wearily, the sight blindsiding him, rattling his heart against his ribs. “Goodnight, Varric,” she said, her voice soft in the quiet night, the hard consonants of his name made gentle in her mouth. She passed around the fire almost silently, her booted feet barely tapping against the loamy ground as she walked. 

He held her in his sight until she slipped beneath the flaps of the oiled canvas tent just beyond the fire’s light. Varric ran his hand over his chest. 

Yeah, he was afraid of falling, but it wasn’t the thought mountains that kept him up at night.

Well, shit. 


End file.
